Something for Wendy
by William Easley
Summary: A Friday night in June, 2015-movie night! But this one is different because Dipper has a thing for Wendy. . .. Short one-shot, Wendip fluff, following the events of "Save the Manatee!"


**Something for Wendy**

 **(June 19, 2015)**

* * *

For the first time ever, Wendy and Dipper gave up on a bad movie. _Plan of the Planet Creatures from the Creature Planet_ was beyond bad. From the cardboard sets to the wooden acting, from the mismatched shots to the dialogue that sounded as if it had been written by a not-too-bright baboon, it unreeled as such a horrendous disaster that they couldn't even laugh at it. It was more a matter of pitying the cast and crew for being involved with such an embarrassing turkey.

So, they switched off the TV and—though the weather was warm—Wendy kindled a very small fire in the fireplace, just for atmosphere, and they sat on the bearskin rug on the floor, snuggling in front of the hearth. "What's the matter, Dip?" Wendy asked after a little while. "You're miles away."

It was no use trying to hide it—Wendy could sense whenever they touched that he was holding back something. Dipper sighed. "We've been so busy in the Shack all week, and there's something I wanted to do, but then I thought, no, it was so dumb and egotistical—but I want you to—" He stopped and took a deep, deep breath. "Just a minute."

He got up and went outside. Since Wendy had left work as early as she could to prepare dinner for her dad and the boys before they took off for their bowling night, he had ridden his bike over. He took something from the carrier and tucked it inside his vest.

When he came back, Wendy had stretched, lying on the bearskin rug with her shoulders propped on the loveseat and her heels propped on the hearth. She sat up straight as she saw the package he was holding out to her. "Aw," she said. "You brought me a gift."

"Not much of one," Dipper said. "But you helped with it, and—here."

She took the package. "A book—oh, snap! THE book?"

Sitting down on the rug next to her, Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Don't expect too much."

Wendy tore off the pink wrapping paper and held in her hands the tome _Bride of the Zombie,_ by Stan Mason. Dipper's first novel, meant for pre-teen readers. In hardcover and everything. "Dude!"

"I know, I know," Dipper said. "The picture's awful. Alexis and Alexa look like a couple of goofy cartoons, not at all like I describe them in the book. Look how big their heads are! And their faces are identical. I mean, I don't look _that_ much like Mabel, do I?

"Honestly?" Wendy asked. "Not so much now, 'cause your chin's getting sort of squarish, and hers is more girly. And of course, you have to shave these days. And you've got those lines under your eyes and she hasn't. But thinking back to when you were twelve—this is not all that far off, man. Let me take a good look at the illustration."

Tilting the book so she caught the firelight on the front of the jacket, she chuckled. The cover picture showed a path through dark woods, pine trunks and fir branches, all browns and somber greens, with roots sprawling over the ground and colorful polka-dotted toadstools sprouting in between them. In the foreground, the two main characters froze in mind-stride, their big mouths open in silent screams of horror, a girl in what might have been intended to be a shooting-star sweater and a boy in tee shirt and shorts, with a brown cap flying off his head as he and his sister fled toward the reader.

Behind them, a misshapen, towering dark silhouette of a monster appeared to be lurching in close pursuit. Above its head, against the dark, dark green of the forest, arched bloody-red, drippy letters with a white outline: BRIDE OF THE ZOMBIE. Below that, in smaller white letters was Dipper's pen name, "Stan Mason." At the very bottom ran a blurb: "Fear and fun in a zany new thriller— _Bookburg._

"One thing they got right," Wendy said, tapping the picture with her finger. "Alexis is holding his sister's hand, trying to drag her to safety. You always do that, too, with Mabel—or me."

Dipper felt as bashful as he had on that long-ago evening when he tried to, but couldn't, ask Wendy for just one dance. He cleared his throat. "Well, if you can stand to read it again, you'll see I changed the story some from first draft. But it's still kinda like what happened to Mabel and me the first week we were in Gravity Falls," Dipper said. "Not exactly. The Gnomes are Gnarls and all, and, uh, I made stuff up, so there's a whole lot of fiction in it too."

"Am I still in it?"

"Well, yeah!" Dipper said. "Uh—but the editor had me cut those scenes way down. She said to save them for later." He grinned self-consciously. "She said that Tripper—that's Alexis's nickname still—mooned around too much over the beautiful redhead."

Wendy chuckled. "Yeah, dude, I remember saying something like that myself. And am I still Mindy Velveteen?"

He groaned. "No, no. I changed her name to Willow Cardamon. And Tripper and Alexa are now the Palms twins."

"Cardamon," she said. "Willow Cardamon. Hmm. OK, not too shabby! How about Hoss Enriquez, is he still—"

"Yeah, a Soos sort of guy, and Gruncle Manny is in it, and all the rest."

"Oh, did you explain Alexis's nickname, like I suggested?"

"Not in this one," Dipper said. "I kinda tease the reader about his having a secret, and it's gonna be a birthmark. But it looks sorta like a guy stumbling, not like the Big Dipper."

"Not as cute as yours, then," Wendy said, reaching over to ruffle his hair up from his forehead. She pressed her lips against his own birthmark, and then moved them lower.

After one kiss, Dipper half-stood and reached up to click on the lamp. "Uh—I kinda inscribed it for you and, uh, well, autographed it. On the title page. If, uh—you want to read—"

"'Course I do!" Wendy said. She opened the book and read, "To my best friend, Wendy. You were there at the start, and I hope you'll be with me until the finish. Always, Dipper ("Stan Mason").

"Aw!" she said in a teasing voice. "So mushy!"

"Wellll," Dipper said, feeling himself blushing, "I'll admit, it started out to be a whole lot more, um, romantic? But then I thought, it's gonna be in her house, her brothers just might pick it up, you know."

"Yeah," Wendy said. "Not quite ready to let Dad and them know how we're feeling about each other. Tell you what, Dip: Set aside another copy of the first edition for later. Then you can re-inscribe it for me with the right words."

"Deal," he said. "Um—I didn't dedicate this one to you. But the next one—if you'll let me—"

"Sure, I will!" she said, turning the page. "Aw. 'To Mabel, who can be crazy and funny and weird, and I hope she never changes.' Sweet, Dipper. I approve."

"OK," Dipper sighed, settling back. "So. That's the very first copy I've ever given anybody. The editor sent me some early reviews along with the books, and they're all good. The blurb's from a rave review in what she says is a real important magazine for school libraries. She says the pre-sales are strong, too. So anyhow, I've about got the second one, _It Lurked in the Lake,_ ready to send in—it's not due until August, but while I was laid up with my sprained ankle I got ahead on it. If you, uh, want, you can—uh, no, forget it, I'm being pushy. I'm sorry."

"No, I _want_ to read it!" Wendy insisted, laughing. "You dork! Hey, modesty's great, but don't make a fetish out of it! Yeah, and like last time, I'll give you whatever thoughts I might have on it."

"Thanks," Dipper said. "I'll give you a print copy of the manuscript on Monday, and if you like it, I'll email it to the publisher. After making whatever changes you suggest, I mean."

Wendy leaned over and kissed him again. Then she caressed his cheek and whispered into his ear, "Dude, I can't resist anymore. We gotta do this right now."

"Wendy, remember, we're waiting," Dipper said, squirming and beginning to sweat. Maybe it was the little fire flickering in front of them, but maybe not.

"Can't help myself, Dipper," Wendy said in a husky voice. "My need is too strong! I want it! I just can't fight it any longer! You gotta do this for me. Right here. Right now!" She handed him the book and grinned. "Read it to me!"

"Awww—kay," Dipper said, barely pulling off what Soos would call a brilliant save. He took the book, Wendy put her arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder, and he opened _Bride of the Zombie_ and started to read Chapter 1:

* * *

 _If you're like me, you look forward to summer. No school! A time to kick back, relax, and take it easy! Cookouts! Outdoor games! Swimming! Nonstop fun!_

 _Unless you ARE me. My name is Tripper Palms. I'm twelve with messy brown hair and brown eyes, short for my age, and not any kind of a jock. I also conceal a terrible secret, but more about that later, maybe._

 _For now, picture me frantically driving a golf cart through the pine-scented, cool-shaded Northwest woods, being chased by a tidal wave of unimaginable horror. The girl sitting beside me and trying not to puke is my twin sister, Alexa._

 _I suppose you're wondering what we're doing here. Rest assured, there is a simple explanation. . .._

* * *

 _The End_


End file.
